When Past and Present Collide
by Kelcor
Summary: This is a h/c story that centres around Andy Yablonski's past, present, and future. It starts out pre series but some of the other characters will be featured in later chapters. Teenage Andy and Adult Andy. Rated "T" to be safe.
1. Prologue

_A/N Okay, so this story has been eating away at me for quite sometime now. I just had to write it. It starts out pre series, then progresses through to shortly after the series timeline. I hope you like it!_

_A/N2 For those of you who are following my H50 story, don't worry I am still working on that one, but my muse insisted I start this one as well, so I did, because, you know, I'm apparently a glutton for punishment!_

16-year-old Andy Yablonski hunkered down in front of the door. His partner-in-crime and best friend, Joey Brendan, stood watch, ensuring no one was aware of their presence. Joey was 2 years older than Andy and the closest he'd ever had to a big brother.

"You got it yet, Runt," Joey asked over his shoulder in a teasing whisper.

"I told you to stop calling me that," Andy returned, his fingers making good use of the lock picking tools his uncle Mike had given him for Christmas a few weeks back. His dad had always told him, he had the hands of a surgeon. He paused at the thought of what his parents would think if they knew he was doing this, working for uncle Mike, breaking into peoples' homes and taking things that didn't belong to him. Then he shook himself free of the temporary mental bondage. His parents wouldn't think anything of his current line of work because they were both dead. The tears that formed in his eyes were forced back. It had been a year already. _Suck it up, Yablonski! _

"Dude," Joey whispered harshly, "what is up with you? This should be a piece of cake for someone with your talents. These people aren't going to be out at their high society shindig for much longer, y'know!"

"Well, maybe if you aimed the flashlight on the key hole instead of at your feet, we'd be inside by now," Andy deflected, not wanting to explain his suddenly hesitant fingers. He was rewarded with a near blinding light being shone in his face. The exposure had been so unexpected, Andy hadn't had time to put his game face on in time and Joey clearly saw the pain in the younger boy's eyes before they were squeezed shut against the light.

"Hey, you okay?"

"I'm fine," Andy insisted, returning his attention to the job at hand. "Just give me a bit of light here, will you?"

After a brief moment, Joey complied, aiming the flashlight at Andy's once again nimble fingers. Andy didn't miss the fact that Joey had also taken a step closer so that, even while he watched the street, one leg was pressed lightly against Andy's back, offering support the only way he could at the moment. And it worked. Andy's heartache seemed to dissipate almost completely.

"Just think," Joey told him. "We finish this job and you'll have enough to take that sweet Rena girl out for a nice dinner on Valentine's day."

Andy finally heard the telltale click. He stood and opened the door enough for him and Joey to slip quietly inside. Closing the door behind them, he turned to his friend. "Yeah. Maybe. Haven't even talked to her yet."

Joey's only response to that confession was a small smirk and a slight shake of the head. He stepped away from Andy and into the living room.

"What?" Andy whispered. "I'm just waiting for the right moment."

"Whatever," Joey snarked. "Come on. We got a job to do. I'll explain the birds and the bees to you later."

"I don't need you to explain the - " It was too late, Joey was already at the other side of the room, piling whatever valuables he could carry into his bag. With an indignant sigh, Andy slipped into criminal-mode and crept into the dining room on the other side of the hallway. He whistled softly when he saw the large buffet and hutch filled with various silver trinkets. "Jackpot," he muttered to himself. Uncle Mike was definitely gonna be happy with this haul.

"Put your hands in the air and turn around slowly."

Andy froze. _Crap! Cops! _Silently, he did as he was told. When he turned around, however, he didn't see what he had expected. Instead of a uniformed police officer, Andy was faced with a panicked civilian in rumpled pyjamas - a little _too _panicked for Andy's liking, what with the shotgun held in trembling hands and aimed directly at Andy's chest. If the reddened nose and watery eyes were any indication, the man appeared to be hopped up on cold medication... and not the drowsy kind. _Perfect! Stoned and holding a gun!_

"Listen, mister, this isn't what it looks like." Andy cringed inwardly, knowing what a stupid statement that was but not knowing what else to say.

"Oh, really," the man challenged. "Because it looks like you're trying to rob me."

Before Andy could respond, Joey tackled the man from behind. They fought for the gun but the man, being twice Joey's size, overpowered him and Joey was tossed to the side. Andy pulled him to his feet. "Nice moves, bro," he whispered sarcastically. "You okay?"

"Yeah," Joey confirmed. "You?"

"Yeah."

"Don't make another move," the man told them sternly as he reached for the phone.

Both Andy and Joey were unable to take their eyes off the shotgun held in the man's unsteady hand. "Could you, uh, aim that gun somewhere else, please," Joey requested.

"Huh. Yeah, you'd like that wouldn't you? Then you'd be able to try to attack me again - "

"No, sir," Joey insisted, raising a placating hand while taking a step in front of Andy. "You have our word."

"Joey," Andy whispered fiercely. "What are you doing? Get back here!"

"Stay cool," Joey tossed over his shoulder. "I won't let you get hurt."

"It's not me I'm worried about!"

Not hearing their exchange, the man continued: "Right. Like I'm gonna take the word of a couple of common thieves!"

The sound of a car backfiring startled all three of them, followed almost instantly by another deafening sound - BANG!

Joey was thrown backwards into Andy and they both toppled to the floor. In shock, it took a moment for Andy to fully realize what had just happened. He looked up and saw the smoke billowing from the barrel of the shotgun. Then his eyes followed the horrified gaze of the man. Joey's white shirt was covered in blood! He was leaning back against Andy's chest, fighting to breathe, fighting to stay alive.

"NO!" Andy shouted. He scrambled out from beneath his friend and tried to pull him to his feet but Joey's cry of anguish stopped him. Instead he held his friend's hand in a fierce grip. "No! Joey, hold on. Just hold on, bro!"

"I - I didn't mean to," the man stammered.

"Call 9-1-1," Andy yelled at him. "Do it, now! Please!"

Joey squeezed his hand to get his attention. Once they made eye contact once again, Joey said, "Run, Andy!"

"What? No, Joey! I'm not leaving you!"

"Have... to..."

"No! I won't do it! Please, don't ask me to do that, Joey! Anything but that!"

"Get... outta... this... life... bro! Be... a surgeon... like your... dad... wanted!"

"Joey -"

"RUN!" Joey seemed to use the last of his energy in that one word and his eyes drifted shut.

Andy fought the tears as his best friend took his last breath. He backed away from the body, still on his hands and knees. He looked up and found the man still paralyzed with fear, telephone receiver in hand. He could hear the tinny voice of the operator on the other end of the line and knew it would only be a matter of minutes for this place was swarming with cops. But he couldn't bring himself to run. Then he realized, it was Joey's last request. He hadn't had the chance to hear a last request from his dad. Certainly not from his mom.

Intent on doing what Joey wanted, Andy finally managed to get his feet under him and ran out the back door. He sprinted across the yard, opened the gate and ran along the dirt path that led to the woods at the other end of the street. He ran and ran and ran and ran... until he collapsed with exhaustion in some clearing. As his thoughts returned to Joey and his memory showed him once again how his best friend had taken a bullet for him, he saw the blood coating his hands and vomited into the dirt and grass, then curled himself into a ball and allowed the darkness to overwhelm him and take him into a blissful state unconsciousness.

TBC

_A/N Thank you so much for reading. Please Review? ~Kelcor_


	2. Scott  Part One

_A/N My muse has led me in a different direction than originally intended. My current outline has the story following adult Andy until the final chapter, which will step back into his youth and explain what happened after the robbery and death of his best friend in the first chapter. i apologize for taking so long with this update but I wrote myself into a corner with my original summary. I don't know how well I've captured the characters' voices so there is minimal dialogue for now. Personally, I'm not sure how I feel about it but it's been too long and I felt a responsibility to update. I hope you like it. ~Kelcor_

**Approximate Timeline: Seven Months Before episode "Good Intentions" **

Dr. Andy Yablonski stood outside his patient's room, unable to quell the gnawing feeling in his gut that he knew this kid from somewhere. Paramedics had rushed him into the E.R. after finding him in a deserted alleyway downtown. The kid was lucky. If the EMT's hadn't happened by his location on their usual route, Scott Becker would have died from either the painfully obvious drug overdose or by exposure to the elements in the middle of March in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania.

Once at the hospital, both possible outcomes had been narrowly avoided due to the exceptional skills of Dr. Lisa Reed. As soon as the kid was no longer critical, Lisa had taken a closer look at the blood test results and the x-rays. And had immediately called Andy down to the ER.

Now, he stood here, wondering for the life of him where he knew Scott Becker from. The kid was too young for Andy to have met him through regular social circles, and he was pretty sure none of his friends had a teenage son. Dr. Yablonski was perplexed to say the least.

With another glance at Scott Becker's chart, Andy let himself into the room. According to the information provided, the kid was 17-years-old but he looked to be at least three years younger. Judging by his lack of muscular definition, Scott Becker had started using drugs at a very young age, perhaps as early as 12 or 13 years, which had stunted his growth and physical development. And, of course, there was the substituting food with the drug of choice, which, Andy knew from the chart, appeared to be cocaine.

Based on the condition of his heart and the Methylecgonidine in the kid's system, Andy surmised that Scott preferred to smoke the junk, rather than shoot it.

Using his stethoscope, he listened to Scott's heart and lungs. He glanced up when the kid began to regain consciousness and offered up a small smile to his newest patient. "Hey, Scott," Andy said, placing a hand on the boy's shoulder in an effort to ground him. Welcome back to the land of the living. I'm Dr. Yablonski."

"Where am I," Scott mumbled, barely coherent.

"You're at Three Rivers Hospital."

"Hospital? What - " he gasped in pain when he tried to sit up.

"Easy there, Tiger," Andy gently admonished, easing him back onto the bed. "You've been through quite an ordeal."

"What happened?" Scott's voice was not much more than a whisper, a testament to his current weakened state.

"You had a drug overdose, which damaged your heart," Andy began, glancing back down at the chart as he spoke. "We're going to keep you here for a few days for observation - "

"A few days? No. No way," Scott argued, pushing himself off the bed. He tugged the wires off his arms and chest, pulled out his IV.

Andy's attention whipped back to his patient. "Whoa! Where do you think you're going?"

"Anywhere but here," he declared.

The was doing his best to ignore the pain but his face had paled drastically and tiny beads of sweat had formed on his forehead. Andy quickly blocked his path to the door. "I can't let you leave, Scott."

"You can't stop me," the teen said defiantly, bringing himself up to his full height but still falling short of Andy's 6'2" frame.

"Actually, I can. You are a minor. I am your doctor. You need parental consent before you can be released."

"Fat chance of that," Scott muttered.

"Listen, Scott," Andy began, placing a calming hand on the kid's shoulder.

This time, however, the contact had the exact opposite of the desired effect. "Don't touch me!" The teen pushed Andy away from him with surprising strength but before he could make another move for the door, a sharp pain erupted in his chest and his legs crumpled beneath him.

Andy lunged forward and caught the kid before he hit the floor. Slipping an arm beneath Scott's knees, he scooped him up into his arms and deposited him back onto the bed. "Nurse! I need a crash cart in here, STAT!"

3R3R3R3R3R

Dr. David Lee walked into the pub and was not at all surprised to find Andy sitting alone in a corner, several bottles of beer already emptied and scattered across the table. Without hesitation, he stepped up to the table and sat down next to his friend and colleague. For a few long moments, the two men sat in companionable silence.

"It took me up until my fourth beer to finally figure out who that kid reminds me of," Andy stated solemnly, a slight slur to his words.

"And who is that?"

Another silence descended upon them but, this time, it was laced with a tension that David didn't initially understand. Andy had developed bonds with patients before but none had been this strong, nor had any developed this quickly. Sensing that revelations were coming, David held his tongue and waited for his Fort-Knox-like friend to finally open up about something from his past.

"Me," Andy finally admitted.

David's eyebrows shot up to his hairline. "You," he repeated, disbelief colouring his tone.

When Andy laughed, it was with self-deprecation and derision, but he didn't elaborate.

"How could this kid possibly remind you of yourself," David prompted.

Andy downed the last of his current bottle of beer and stood up to leave. His sudden swaying motion had David jumping to his feet and grasping his friend's arm to offer support.

"Forget I said anything," Andy mumbled.

David was unsure if this was a statement or a plea but the look in Andy's eyes told him it was the latter. This kind of admission wasn't really something David could easily forget, not if he wanted to call himself a friend. So, instead of answering, he got a better grip on his friend's arm and wrapped his own arm around Andy's waist. "Let's get you home."

"Not home," Andy slurred, eyes watering somewhat. "Just a hotel room, David. 's not my home."

"Yeah, I know, Andy," David said, looking away from Andy's uncharacteristic display of emotion. "I know."

3R3R3R3R3R

The next morning, Andy woke to a splitting headache and a weather forecast of snow and hurricane force winds. As the reporter announced his recommendation for people to stay off the roads, Andy admitted to himself that there were _some _benefits to his current living arrangements, even if it was just a hotel room. The sudden memory of a teary admission the previous night had him fast deciding to do his best to avoid Dr. David Lee as much as possible today.

3R3R3R3R3R

Wanting to check on Scott Becker's condition, Andy made that his first stop of the morning. As he approached the room, however, he was surprised to find an empty bed. He turned in a circle, searching for the gravely ill teen. Instead, his eyes fell upon Nurse Pam Acosta.

"Pam? Has Scott Becker been taken upstairs for additional tests?"

"I'm not sure. I just got here," she said, slipping her coat over the back of her chair. "Let me check."

Andy watched as she picked up the phone and started making a few phone calls, while simultaneously typing a few key words into her computer. When she hung up the phone a moment later, she looked up at him. "There's nothing on file for any scheduled tests, Andy. But he wouldn't have just left... would he?"

"I think that's _exactly _what he did. Son of a - " he cut himself off when a young girl stepped off the nearby elevator with her mother. The little girl eyed him with a wide eyed innocence that told him she had heard enough to know exactly what he'd been about to say. Andy smiled an apology at the girl's mother as he passed them to step into the elevator."

"Where are you going," Pam called out to him.

"I'm not sure yet," he replied, reaching out to press the button for the ground floor.

"Well, what do I tell Dr. Jordan?"

"Tell her I'm taking one of those vacation days she keeps pestering me about."

3R3R3R3R3R

After a quick call to Rena, and an argument about whether or not he should even be out on the streets in the first place, Andy had Scott Becker's last known address. The streets were deserted - apparently, everyone else had heeded the warnings of both the weather bureau and the police and stayed off the streets. Something he'd had every intention of doing, as well. Then Scott Becker disappeared and Andy just couldn't bring himself to let this kid go. He could tell from the information on the kid's chart that he was alone, no next of kin or family listed. The fact that no one had come by the hospital to check up on him was a pretty good hint, too. Whether his parents had died or he was a runaway, that was still up for debate, but Andy knew what it was like to feel completely alone in this world. He didn't want that for this kid. For any kid, really, but there was something special about Scott Becker.

Despite the lack of traffic, it was still slow going. The snow was really piling up, both on the roads and on his windshield. He risked another glance at the map on his lap, truly regretting not getting that stupid GPS device fixed sooner. Since he spent most of his time either at the hospital, in his hotel room, or at the pub across from the hospital, he never really used his car much and saw no urgency in getting the thing fixed. He was kicking himself now, though.

Finally, the correct street came into view and he made a left turn into a small subdivision about an hour outside downtown Pittsburgh. Andy was not at all surprised to find himself in a fairly well-to-do neighbourhood. People seemed all too ready to dismiss derelicts as part of a society that they would never fall into themselves. If they only knew how easy it could be to go from 'a little down on my luck' to living in a cardboard box, asking strangers for change just to get their next meal. Years ago, Andy had found that out the hard way, which was why he was always looking for a way to give a little something back - Scott Becker was that chance.

As he pulled up to the address Rena had given him, he got a glimpse of two dark figures running out of the house and across the lawn. Andy jumped out of his car, raising his arm against the snow and hail being pelted against him. "Hey, wait," he yelled over the roaring winds.

One of the figures stopped. A young girl. No more than 15 years old. She turned to Andy with a panicked look on her face. "We didn't mean to do it," she pleaded, her words just barely discernible over the hurricane force winds. "Please, help him. We didn't mean to do it."

"Didn't mean to do what? Where's Scott?"

The girl glanced fearfully at the house, then, without another word, she turned and followed her dark figured friend. The snow was falling so heavily, Andy lost sight of her within seconds. Not seeing any other course of action, he moved toward the house and stepped through the still open doorway, closing the door behind him and shaking the snow our of his hair and off his coat. He stomped his feet on the hardwood floor, creating two small puddles beneath his boots.

"Scott? Scott? Are you in here, kid?"

His calls were met with nothing but silence. He searched the downstairs. Other than a fridge and stove in the kitchen, the lower level rooms were completely empty. Andy turned his attention to the second floor of the house, ascending the steps with a mixture of trepidation and concern. In the brief time Andy had known the kid, Scott had never struck him as the strong silent type. Vulnerable, yes. With a heartache that he tried to hide from the rest of the world? Definitely. But certainly not quiet. And the continued silence emanating from the house did nothing to ease Andy's nerves.

As he reached the top landing, he heard a grunt and a barely stifled gasp of pain. After that, he was able to decipher the slightest sound of heavy, laboured breathing. He followed the sound to a room at the end of the hallway and opened the door.

There, in a far corner of the room, was Scott Becker, even paler than Andy remembered. His gaze moved over the boy and he quickly realized why the kid was so pale... Scott was bleeding from a bullet wound in his side!

TBC

_A/N I took so long to update this that I probably don't deserve a review. I hope you'll leave one, anyway? *hopeful smile* ~Kelcor_


	3. Scott Part Two

_A/N I actually tried to post this last night (as promised to Mononoke-hime x sukai kurora) but I kept getting an error about how either my document was empty (?) or there was a processing error. Seeing as I had spent hours typing various characters/letters/words into my 'empty' document, I was pretty sure it was a processing error... LoL Anyway, sorry about the delay. I know, I know, I say that a lot but I really do have a lot on my plate lately. *sigh* I'm not complaining, though because once I finish what's on my plate, desert will be a 'dream come true'! Okay, enough with that metaphor and on with the story. I hope this is worth the wait. ~Kelcor_

Andy took in each detail of the room with practiced precision - Scott was slouched against the wall, breathing slightly laboured; the smell of gun powder still hung in the air, which told Andy the gun must have gone off just moments before he had seen the two teens tear out of the house. A few crumpled bills littered the floor. It was the sight of the gun that had Andy faltering, however, seemingly tossed aside in fear and desperation as the shooter fled the scene. He froze mid-step, his mind flashing back to Joey, the shotgun, the pooling blood...

A pained grunt from a barely conscious Scott forced the doctor back to the present. He shoved the gun away with one foot, not wanting to put his own prints on it - old habits died hard - but also not wanting it anywhere near him or Scott, then rushed to the boy's side. Even as he dropped to his knees next to him, Andy was pulling his cell phone out and dialling 9-1-1. It took a moment for him to realize there was no signal. He snapped the phone shut with a curse and returned his focus to the injured teen in front of him.

Andy palmed Scott's face, dismayed at the heat emanating from the kid's flesh. Next, he checked for a pulse. It was strong but revving way too fast for Andy's liking. An object from the corner of his eye grabbed his attention - a discarded crack pipe. He glanced back at the money again. Drug deal gone bad? With something akin to revulsion, Andy snatched up the pipe and stalked over to a nearby window. He opened the window, braced himself against the pelting hail, and tossed the pipe out into the snow filled yard, then quickly slammed the window shut once again.

"Scott? Scott, can you hear me?" Waiting anxiously for an answer, he lifted Scott's shirt to inspect the wound. Just a graze but still deep, it was bleeding enough to have Andy concerned. Finally, a mumbled response reached Andy's ears.

"Just hang on, Scott," he whispered, then rushed out of the room and down into the abandoned kitchen. After a frantic search beneath the cupboards, he found an old pot. Obviously, not lustrous enough to include in the packing, but it would do nicely for Andy's purposes.

He filled the pot with water and placed it on the bottom step leading upstairs, then, not wanting to leave Scott alone any longer than necessary but needing supplies, Andy ran outside to get his medical kit from the backseat of his car. He was shocked by how much snow had already accumulated on the vehicle. As an afterthought, he also grabbed a handful of water bottles out of the trunk.

The wind picked up speed, blowing snow in his face with an almost animalistic ferocity, nearly knocking Andy off his feet with the longer than usual gusts. Ducking his head against the hurricane-like gale, with med kit and water bottles tucked against him, he made his way back to the house... and walked straight into the trunk of the tree in the centre of the yard. He had veered nearly ninety degrees off course. He closed his eyes and stood still for several long moments, trying to get his bearings. He could _not _afford to get turned around again. Scott needed him. Picturing the position of his car at the curb, the tree and its proximity to the house in his mind, Andy finally turned to his left and prayed he was headed in the right direction.

As soon as he reached the front door, Andy breathed a sigh of relief and darted back inside. He grabbed the pot of water from the bottom step as he raced back up the steps, taking the stairs two at a time.

3R3R3R3R3R

Andy did his best to clean the wound, slapped some gauze on it, then tried his cell phone again. Still nothing. The storm must be blocking the signal. There was no way he would be able to safely navigate the roads in this weather, they were going to have to wait it out. The sun had already gone down, which meant Andy had to find some other supplies to get them through the night.

After scavenging through the other bedrooms and the linen closet outside the bathroom, Andy was finally able to find a couple of forgotten blankets and an old lumpy pillow - better than nothing.

3R3R3R3R3R

Detective Rena Yablonski rushed through the sliding doors and found herself in a very crowded ER. Her eyes scanned the large area for her estranged husband. Though, she was the one who initiated the break, so did that make her the estranged one? But she didn't want to think about their separation right now. Truth be told, she _never _wanted to think about it, because a small part of her died every time she did. Tonight, however, her main concern was of a more life or death nature. _Andy's _life or death.

Her partner, Detective Phil Lombardi darted through the doors behind her. He stopped at her side and joined in her scan of the ER. When neither of them were able to find the object of their quest, Phil's eyes landed on her. "Andy's a survivor, Rena. I have yet to see anything that can keep that man down."

"He's not answering his cell, Phil. If he's not in surgery, he _always _answers his cell."

"Well, before we jump the gun, how's about we find out if he is in surgery, okay?"

Not trusting her voice, Rena simply nodded her agreement and they both stepped up to the elevators.

3R3R3R3R

Andy sat with his back against the wall, arms crossed over his bent knees, head leaned forward against his arms. He was exhausted. It had been hours since he had first arrived to find Scott injured and there was still no sign that the storm was going to let up any time soon. He had to get this kid to the hospital. There was only so much he could do without the proper equipment. The flesh wound caused by the bullet wouldn't be an issue, as long as it didn't get infected, but Scott's heart condition was still undetermined. Andy had planned to review the results from the previous night's tests after checking on the kid but, once realizing Scott had bolted through the night, finding him had become his number one priority. Which left Andy with no idea of how bad Scott's heart had been damaged by his drug use.

He looked down at the teen, unconscious beneath one of the blankets, head propped up by the lumpy pillow. The other blanket Andy had piled in a nearby corner for himself for later. Or for Scott, should his condition worsen. Feeling his anxiety piquing, Andy pulled himself wearily to his feet, intent on walking off his steam by pacing back and forth in the small room. He didn't get far before his eyes fell on the window, and the tree beyond. The tree that was swaying dangerously close to the house, to the very room he and Scott were currently taking shelter in.

"No. No way. Please, God, no." Even as the words left Andy's mouth, he was diving to the floor, covering Scott's body with his own, as the large tree came crashing through the window, taking some of the wall with it. The last thing Andy felt was the biting cold of the wind, and the scorching pain of torn flesh, before he lost consciousness and joined Scott in the black void of oblivion.

3R3R3R3R

Phil watched as Rena paced back and forth across the office. His partner loved her husband so much. But, as Rena had stated herself many times before, their relationship was a tragic example of when love, even the undying kind, was just not enough.

"Dr. Jordan," Rena began.

"Call me Sophia, please."

"Sophia," Rena said, the corners of her mouth twitching up into a small smile of gratitude toward the woman who, for all intents and purposes, had become somewhat of a mother figure to Andy. "He hasn't answered his cell phone in hours."

"Cell phone signals are down all over the city. I wouldn't worry too much. Andy can take care of himself."

"Why does everyone keep saying that," Rena growled, her frustration becoming clear. "I know he can take care of himself. I know him better than anyone. But I also know he has a soft place for abandoned kids, so much so that he is more than willing to put himself in danger to help them. I looked further into Scott Becker's history..."

"And?"

"And," Phil said, inserting himself into the conversation to give Rena a chance to compose herself. "The kid seems to be a good kid who made some bad mistakes. Unfortunately, he hangs with some not so good people. Some of them have pretty violent records under their belts."

Sophie sighed inwardly. If she were to be completely honest, she was worried about Andy, as well. It just wasn't like him to not check in, especially during a storm this bad when people tended to ignore the warnings and go out anyway, then get into accidents, resulting in a busier than usual Emergency Room. When her top surgeon had failed to respond to her pages, she'd just figured his cell phone wasn't working like everyone else's. Now, she was beginning to doubt that assessment. She glanced up from her musings, just as Dr. David Lee passed by her office. Sophia rose to her feet and rushed to the door.

"David?"

The handsome Asian doctor turned just before entering the elevator. He saw Rena and Phil behind her and immediately aborted his previous route and headed straight for Sophia's office.

3R3R3R3R

When Andy woke, he was pinned between something soft and something heavy. After a moment, he realized the 'something soft' was Scott Becker, and the 'something heavy' was a large pine tree and what looked to be part of a freakin' wall on his back. Bracing his hands on the floor, on either side of Scott, Andy took a deep breath, then pushed up and back. The debris moved but not much.

"Scott," he said, startled at how weak his voice sounded even to his own ears. "Scott, I need you to wake up for me, kid." Andy almost couldn't believe his eyes when hazel finally opened to meet blue. As the kid's sight gradually adjusted to the darkness of the room, he recognized Andy. His eyes widened significantly when he saw the tree laying across Andy's back.

"Hey, buddy. You with me?"

Scott nodded but his gaze remained transfixed by the pine branches framing Andy's profile.

"Look at me, Scott. Look at me," Andy instructed. The kid's eyes finally focused on Andy once again. "That's right. Good man," he soothed. "Now, I need you to do something for me, okay? Can you do that?" Another nod. "I need you to carefully pull yourself out from under me, Scott. You've got a wound in your side, so move slowly. Okay?"

Scott nodded again. He felt like it was all he could do anymore, like he'd lost his voice. But he recognized the urgency of the situation, saw the strain in the doctor's face, knew the weight on his back had to be incredible. He eased himself up onto his elbows and slowly started pulling himself backwards, further into the room. He barely heard the doctor's words of encouragement over the thrumming in his ears. The pain in his side was bad, no doubt about it, but what hurt the most was his chest.

Andy heard the loud creak of protest from above and, once the kid was out of harm's way, he took another breath, then threw himself out from under the debris. He looked back just in time to see it crash the rest of the way to the floor.

"Good job," he said, turning to Scott with a smile. The smile disappeared, however, when he saw the kid curled forward on his side. "Scott? Scott, what is it? Tell me what's wrong."

No matter how hard he tried, Scott couldn't, for the life of him, remember this doctor's name. "Doctor... ah, man... it hurts!"

"What hurts, Scott?"

"My... chest," the teen muttered between clenched teeth.

Andy cursed for the second time that night. He had never been much for cursing but this situation seemed to be bringing out the 'best' in him. He prayed that this wasn't going to be a full on heart-attack because CPR wouldn't be much more than a band-aid in this situation, not like he could get the kid to the hospital anytime soon, either.

Thankfully, the pain seemed to recede and Scott slowly eased out of his fetal position and lay on his back on the floor. It took mere seconds for the shock of the situation to wear off, and for the bitter cold of the air to settle into their bones. Scott started shivering first, followed quickly by Andy.

A huge hole stood where the window and the wall surrounding it used to be. The crest of the tree, which hadn't looked all that large when outside, took up close to the entire room and blocked any attempt at escape through the doorway. Andy just hoped that daylight would provide further options.

He grabbed the spare blanket, then helped Scott move further away from the window. The two huddled into a far corner. Andy pulled Scott against him, ignoring the teen's indignant struggles and weak protests, and wrapped the blanket around them, tucking the edges behind their backs. He wrapped both his arms around the injured teen, careful of the wound in his side, and settled in for the night. Saying another prayer, to a God he wasn't sure existed, that someone would find them before it was too late.

3R3R3R3R

Andy woke to the odd sounds and familiar voices. "Andy... me... David... out... here... got him... 's okay..."

BLACK

3R3R3R3R

David sat on the furthest bench seat, Andy bundled up in his arms. He couldn't help but feel a bit frustrated by the fact that Scott Becker, the reason for all this, was in the seat ahead of them, the seat closer to the heater. But he knew that's the way Andy would want it so he set aside his frustration and concentrated, instead, on getting his friend warm again.

"Ryan," he called up to the front, "how long before we get back to Three Rivers?"

"I'm going as fast as I can," Ryan returned, sounding more than a little flustered and scared.

"Leave him alone, David," Miranda piped up from her position next to Scott, doing her best to warm the teen just as David was doing for Andy. They both exchanged fearful gazes, then David acquiesced and didn't say another word for the duration of the trip.

3R3R3R3R

This time Andy regained consciousness to the sounds of beeping monitors, softly murmuring hospital staff, and... snoring? There was something very familiar about that particular snore. His curiosity forced his eyes open and he saw Rena sitting in a nearby chair, forehead resting on Andy's arm, fast asleep and, you guessed it, snoring softly.

Andy's lips twitched up in fondness as he gazed down at the only woman he had ever loved. "Hey," he whispered, not wanting to startle her.

She came instantly awake and looked around in confusion for a brief moment, until her eyes settled on Andy.

"Hey," he said again.

"Hey," she replied, her relief showing clearly on her face. "How are you feeling?"

"Better now," Andy told her honestly. Then he remembered the previous night. "Scott?"

"He's fine," Rena reassured him. "I'm told he's going to need your expertise someday soon but not today. They warmed him up - warmed both of you up, actually - and he's coming along nicely. David even stitched up the bullet wound in his side... after he stitched up your back." She couldn't stop the single tear from streaming down her cheek.

Andy thumbed it away before it reached her jaw line, then cupped her face with his palm. Their eyes locked and, like always, they said everything they needed to say without saying anything at all.

TBC

_A/N2 Please Review? They really do keep me going. Every time I log into my email and find a review from one of you, a huge smile breaks out on my face. Some emails I don't open right away. Any reviews/PMs from you guys? Yeah, they get opened RIGHT AWAY! Pathetic? Maybe. Do I care? Not so much. LoL ~Kelcor_


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